This is the first in what might eventually be probably a series of columns. Whatever.
All right, readers, welcome to my sweet new advice column. Today I’m gonna give that “Dear Abby” floozy a run for her money — she got a letter from some woman, in MARYLAND, no less, that just drove me up a goddamned wall and I can’t believe there are like 495,000,000 newspapers carrying this woman’s dumb advice. So I wrote my own letter.
From the stupid idiot sister:
My brother is a lifelong drug addict who has spent the last two decades in and out of jail. He rarely works and has no permanent residence, finding shelter instead with various friends, girlfriends and sometimes sleeping in his broken-down vehicle. When he calls me, it’s always with some creative story and a request to send him money. The money I have sent over the years has gone to pay for his new drug fix, not to resolve whatever problem his sob story was about.
Recently, our grandmother died and she left each of us some money. As her executor, I am responsible for making sure my brother gets his share. While I want him to benefit from this modest inheritance, I’m afraid he will use it to buy drugs — possibly enough drugs to harm himself, if unintentionally. Obviously, this is not what our grandmother would have wanted. How can I make sure this money goes to help, and not further enable, my drug-addicted sibling?
— CONFLICTED SIS IN MARYLAND
From “Dear Abby”:
Consult an attorney, preferably one who has experience with wills and trusts, and see if some arrangement can be made that ensures your brother has a roof over his head and won’t starve. It may be possible that something can be worked out so his necessities would be paid for him, without his actually getting his hands on the money.
From HENRY STOCKTON:
Who the shit do you think you are? Your grandmother is dead, and I can see how that might make you act like a heinous, meddling wench, but you need to check your self-centered, never-pooping ass before somebody kills you. Your grandma knew your lousy monkey-shit brother was on drugs. She didn’t care, and she STILL DOESN’T CARE. Partially because she was probably too old to care about stupid 30-year-olds and what they’re smoking, and partially because she’s DEAD. So you can’t argue with her. SHE IS A CORPSE. But before she was a corpse she told you to give your brother some of her money.
If you were in charge of my estate and tried to pull this back-handed, attorney-bringin’ bullpucky, I WOULD HAUNT THE BALLS OFF OF YOU. Worse than Old Lady Peckingham haunted that nice boy down the street from me when I was a kid. Because it’s not your goddamned business, woman. I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but that’s not your job. You’re the executor of the will. You EXECUTE what it says in the WILL. If clause 2 says to give your heroin-face brother some money, unless clause 3 says “but before you do any of that, mess with all my business and pass hoity-toity moral judgement on my grandchildren,” you BETTER GODDAMN DO IT. Because that is your JOB. SHUT UP.